


All Things Considered

by linndechir



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barney almost gets himself killed saving Lee's life. Lee is furious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Considered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Taste_of_Suburbia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/gifts).



Barney had never been more relieved to hear the door bell, even though he wasn't really expecting anyone. After ten days at home he was starting to get cabin fever, and limping a few times around the block had only made him feel worse, despite the pain meds Doc had put him on. He didn't need crutches anymore, but that was about the best he could say for his leg. Today's lunch (Chinese take-out, though he was starting to get as sick of that as he was of bad TV) had only been eaten an hour ago, and none of the guys had called and said they'd drop by. Which didn't mean much, since most of them seemed to be allergic to cell phones (or maybe just to giving him a heads up instead of somehow showing up whenever Barney had just gone to bed or into the shower). Out of habit he stuck his trusted revolver into the back of his jeans before he limped to the door. Even in his current state he was still more than able to shoot someone in the head.

What he hadn't expected when he opened the door was to find Lee Christmas standing in front of it. Lee had been the only one of the team who hadn't shown his face since they'd come back from their last mission, to the point where Barney had actually started worrying that Lee himself had got hurt and Barney just hadn't noticed. But according to Caesar he had simply been sulking, for some reason or other.

Whatever the reason was this time, Lee still looked pretty damn pissed. And the first thing he did after glaring at Barney for a moment was punch him in the face.

Barney felt like his skull was vibrating in his head for a second or two, but even then he already realised that the punch had been basically harmless. No bones had cracked, and Barney didn't even think his skin had split open. Not that it didn't hurt, but it felt more like a symbolic punch than anything else. Which made it worse, in a way, because for all the arguments they'd had over the years, Lee had never actually punched him.

“'s nice to see you, too, Christmas,” Barney said, fingers touching his cheekbone gingerly. No blood. 

He stepped aside to let Lee shoulder his way into his apartment, though after that entrance Lee suddenly stopped in the middle of the corridor and watched like a hawk as Barney limped past him. Eyes on Barney's right leg, as if he could somehow see how bad the wound was under the jeans and the bandage.

Barney didn't think he looked too bad, considering how much blood he'd lost not even two weeks ago, and the shot had gone so clean through his leg that the wound was healing like a textbook case of an uneventful recovery. Still hurt like fuck when he accidentally moved too fast, but it could have been worse. He'd definitely had worse.

“You want a beer?” he asked when Lee didn't say anything, limped past him into the kitchen. He heard Lee follow him, shadowing him like some pissed off cat.

“Are you even allowed to drink on your meds?” Lee said, his tone still hostile, like he wasn't expressing concern about Barney's health. Barney hid his smile by turning to the fridge.

“No. But that doesn't mean I can't offer you a drink.” He grabbed a bottle of beer and a soda from the fridge, handed Lee the former and put the cold can of the latter against his cheek. “Or do you need me to put this down so you can punch me again?”

“I think your face is ugly enough as it is, wouldn't wanna make it worse,” Lee said, and this time his tone was closer to his usual banter than to actual anger. He was still scowling as he leant against the kitchen table. “How's the leg?”

“Pretty good, all things considered.” Barney shrugged. “You could've come by earlier.”

Lee pointedly ignored the last bit. “By 'all things considered', do you mean you running through the desert with a gunshot wound in your leg for five hours while bleeding out and not saying a word?”

“Did you really come by here after over a week to yell at me about that?” Barney sighed and took a swig of his soda. He was starting to get sick of that, too. At least nobody was trying to keep him from smoking while he was on pain meds.

“I was already yelling at you about that when we got back, but you passed out in the middle of it.” Lee still held his untouched beer in his hand, eyes fixed on Barney. “Wanted to make sure you were actually awake for this.”

He put the bottle down and stepped closer, not quite crowding Barney against the kitchen counter, but it was a close thing. Close enough for Barney to smell Lee's aftershave and the slight hint of sweat – it was a pretty hot summer afternoon and Lee had never been much for heat. High temperatures generally led to bitching both about the weather and about the Fahrenheit scale, which according to him made already hellish temperatures sound even worse. For once the weather seemed to be the last thing on his mind, though.

“I thought you were done with this whole suicide-as-a-hobby thing you had going on for a while, but it's like you've developed some kind of fucked up martyr complex.” He went on before Barney could get a word in, “First you tried to pull that shit in Vilena – wanting to go back alone, 'no guilt', all that shit –, then you beat yourself up about Billy like you personally killed him, and next thing we know you break up the team, before you try to save your _new_ team all on your fucking own like a moron. Again. And I thought you'd got how stupid that was when we had to drag your dumb arse out of _that_ mess.”

“What's your point, Christmas? I didn't try to go anywhere on my own this time.” 

“No, you just went back in for me when you thought I was pinned down.” And Lee was still glaring at him like Barney had somehow insulted his pride. 

“You _were_ pinned down. I had your back, it's what we do.” And okay, maybe he'd been a little bit more worried about Lee than he would have been about any of the other guys, but that had been the case for years and it had never been a problem. Had never been anything Lee minded, or maybe just not something Lee noticed. 

“Gunner was nearby. You didn't have to get yourself shot. You sure as fuck didn't have to hide that from the rest of us on the way back until you passed out on the plane.”

“Like I was going to rely on Gunner to save your ass,” Barney said, because that was easier than having to acknowledge that, yeah, maybe he'd been a bit of an idiot about his leg, but he'd never seen the point of whining about an injury while nobody could do anything about it. 

“Jesus Christ, you're a stubborn old goat.” Lee's voice was thick with frustration and he turned away from Barney, ran one hand over his shaved head. Barney tried and failed not to smile, even as he pressed the soda can back against his smarting cheek. Lee was a fretter, deep down, cared about all the guys on the team even though he'd never so much as admit that he even liked any of them. Of course he'd been worried. And because Lee didn't know how to communicate like a normal human being (not that behaving like a normal human being was a requirement in their line of work), he had started arguing with Barney instead.

Barney watched him pick up the beer bottle again, glaring at it like it had personally offended him before he raised it to his lips and gulped half the bottle down. Watched Lee's lips wrapped around the glass, his throat as he swallowed, the drop of sweat that ran over his neck, his collarbone, disappeared under his white shirt. He wasn't on enough pain meds that the sight didn't make his jeans feel just a little bit tighter.

He shouldn't be thinking about that, sure as fuck shouldn't be thinking about all the times he'd had his hands on Lee's throat and his chest, about the taste of his sweat or his come or the way he even cursed and bitched while getting fucked. It had been years since they'd last done that, back when they'd still barely known each other, when Lee had been the new guy on the team who'd never meant to stick around for longer than a couple of missions. No strings attached and all that shit, just sweaty, rough post-mission sex with a half-stranger. Except Lee had fit perfectly into the team, fast and competent and reliable, and Barney had grown used to having him by his side in a matter of weeks. So he'd asked Lee to stick around, and Lee had made some dumb joke about how Barney had really taken their fling too seriously, and he'd stayed. On the team, but out of Barney's bed, not that they'd ever made it to a bed.

Years later Barney still remembered every damn detail of Lee's body, not because he was obsessed or anything, but because Lee was his partner and his friend and the person he trusted most in the world. And yeah, because fucking Lee had been one of the hottest things Barney had ever done, but it was only fine to think about that when he was alone with his hand on his cock, not when Lee was in the same damn room.

“What?” Lee snapped when he put down the bottle and Barney still hadn't said anything. Barney shrugged.

“You done now?” he asked. “'cos if you're gonna continue, I'm gonna feel obligated to remind you of all the times you did stupid shit like that.”

“Not half as often as you.” Lee scoffed and turned to face him again. Barney's kitchen wasn't exactly big and it only took Lee two steps to crowd Barney back against the counter. Barney took a deep breath, only ended up inhaling Lee's smell, warm and sweaty and as familiar as his own. And then Lee put both his hands on the counter, on either side of Barney's hips, the look in his eyes something other than anger now, but no less intense. Barney remembered that look as well as the slope of Lee's muscular back or the curve of Lee's dick in his hand.

“I don't want you dying for me,” Lee said, more quietly than before, his voice rough like he had to force the words out of his throat. “So don't you fucking dare.”

“Or what?” Barney grinned, though he didn't feel half the levity he put in his voice. “You're gonna shoot yourself just to spite me?”

And Lee actually laughed at that. He was so close that Barney could almost convince himself he felt the low rumble in his chest, definitely felt the puff of warm breath on his face.

“Would you seriously put it past me?” 

Barney laughed at the absurdity of the idea, and all but choked on his laughter when Lee breached the last bit of distance between them, his hands moving to Barney's hips, lifting him casually up onto the counter like that was something they did. Pain shot through Barney's leg before he found a more comfortable angle for it, clouded his mind for a second until it truly sunk in what Lee had just done. Lee, who was standing between his legs now, hands on his hips, close enough to do something very, very stupid.

“As ancient as you are, you're probably gonna kick the bucket in no time anyway. No need to hurry things along.” His voice was too tense for their usual banter, his brow furrowed, and Barney realised that he'd never actually seen Lee look so _afraid_. And while it wasn't exactly news that Lee cared, it sure as fuck was news that he cared that much. 

Lee's thumb slid under the hem of Barney's shirt, pressed into his hip, hard and painful like he wanted to leave a bruise. They'd never done tender, if anything they'd been rougher with each other the more brutal the mission had been. And that had been before either of them had really cared much about the other, as far as Barney had ever been able not to care about Lee Christmas and his stupid fucking smile and his incessant grumbling.

There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment. That he couldn't even imagine doing this job anymore without Lee by his side. That he hadn't been thinking about anything else in that moment other than that Lee could die and that he'd rather die with him than leave him behind. That he knew without a doubt that Lee would have done the exact same thing for him, because they were partners and friends and a whole lot more they never talked about. 

In the end he settled for, “Don't you have a girlfriend?”

Lee glared at him like he couldn't believe Barney had brought that up now of all times. Gritted his teeth, his thumb still digging into Barney's hip, and managed, “Yeah, that didn't work out.”

“Figured,” Barney said. When Lee raised an eyebrow, he added, “You didn't get a single text during the entire last mission, and she texts you all the time. Did she cheat on you again?”

“You really wanna talk about this right now?” Lee said. His other hand slipped under Barney's shirt, too, slid up over his side, his touch firm and warm and almost possessive. Like it had been days since they'd last done this rather than years. It felt more familiar than it had any right to, after all this time. Barney smiled.

“I'm just saying, I told you she wasn't right for you.” He didn't make it halfway through the sentence before Lee growled at him and kissed him hard, shutting him up with a bite that make Barney groan and surge against him. Lee kissed him with an urgency that knocked the air out of his lungs, like he'd been waiting for this since Barney got himself shot, or even since the last time they'd done this, but that was probably just wishful thinking on Barney's part. 

But Lee still moaned into the kiss like he was desperate for it, moaned under Barney's hands when they roamed over his body, retracing familiar muscles and old scars, finding new ones that hadn't been there years ago, from wounds Barney had witnessed, half of which he'd stitched up himself. Scars Lee had from saving Barney's life.

They fucked right there on the counter in Barney's stuffy kitchen, too impatient to undress, just their jeans opened enough that Lee could slide his cock against Barney's, slick-spit hand wrapped around the both of them. Barney's hands holding on to Lee's shoulder, his legs wrapped around Lee's hips even though it made his thigh hurt more than it had the entire last week, and Lee still kissed him like he was going to choke if he stopped. Kept kissing him even after they'd both come and made a mess of their clothes, his hand splayed against Barney's thigh, his breath rattling in his chest like they'd done more than just get each other off quickly.

Barney still had to bite back a sigh when Lee eventually let go of him. They were quiet through cleaning themselves up and tucking themselves back in, quiet as Barney finished his soda and Lee his beer, still quiet as they both milled into living room as if Barney had already invited Lee to stay. Not that Lee had ever needed an invitation. 

Lee took off his sticky shirt and dropped it to the floor, grabbed a t-shirt Barney had thrown over a chair a few days earlier and put it on like it was his. Didn't need an invitation for that either, just grinned at Barney as if to challenge him to object. He looked good in it, white fabric clinging to his shoulders and his pecs. Looked all the better in it because it was Barney's, and damn if the sight didn't give him a weird thrill.

They sprawled out on the large couch – the most expensive piece of furniture Barney owned, broad and comfortable, and Barney had most definitely not bought it because Lee had crashed on it every time he'd argued with one of his girlfriends over the years –, a comfortable distance between them as if nothing had happened. Barney wouldn't have wanted anything to change anyway.

“Would you really shoot yourself if I died saving you?” he asked eventually, not even trying to sound serious.

“Oh, fuck off, you bleak old bastard.” Lee laughed and shook his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You know I'd leave you behind if you got yourself pinned down like an idiot, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Barney said and smiled. He rubbed his fingers against his palm, and he could still feel the sensation of the knotted scar on Lee's chest where Lee had literally taken a bullet for him. The long lines on Lee's back where he'd been tortured just two years ago, and he'd stubbornly refused to give up the team no matter what they'd done to him. He still felt the ache on his face from Lee's punch earlier today, all that worry and concern distilled into anger.

He fished his pain meds from the coffee table just as Lee turned on the TV, popped another pill into his mouth. His leg hurt like hell from the exertion, because of course Lee Christmas had to pick this particular day to decide that they should start fucking again rather than wait until Barney was actually capable of moving without being in pain. That would have been too fucking easy.

His leg hurt, and a bruise was forming over his cheekbone, and next to him Lee was already bitching about how much he hated American TV. All things considered, Barney didn't have any complaints.


End file.
